Graybles with Ice King and Marceline
by eternallost
Summary: Oh, hello there! Here for more graybles, I reckon. However! Tonight is our special adult edition. So, cover the ear nubs of your little ones, and set their dials to sleep mode. What's that? Guess tonight's theme? Well my mature gloobers, I think that would be quite obvious! Hoo hoo!
1. Old Man Slumber Party

_Oh, hello there! Here for more graybles, I reckon. However! Tonight is our special adult edition. So, cover the ear nubs of your little ones, and set their dials to sleep mode. _

_All done? Well, alright then. Focus your attention on my viewing cube._

_What's that? Guess tonight's theme? Well my mature gloobers, I think that would be quite obvious! Hoo hoo!_

_So, without further ado, let this enticing grayble dribble all over your mind label! _

Marceline tossed and turned in the air, completing a 360 in search of sleep. Yet, even a bed of air could not offer her comfort. She groaned indignantly and looked at the artificial glow of her alarm clock. It was one a.m., just after she had returned from her story telling session at Ice King's castle. Her tale struck such a chord that it had made the blue man set all of his captives free to travel into the night air. She recalled continuing the story as she wafted above the trailing of princesses, through the darkness and into the warm candlelight of their perspective kingdoms.

After seeing their safe and satisfied faces she had returned to her cave, wishing that her yarn of comedic romance had warmed her insides as well. She went down to the fridge; perhaps the red from some spicy pepper could make her feel that way. As she approached the refrigerator, she remembered how the man had cowered atop it, like a bushy white cat. The way that he easily recognized her and called out her name this evening had made her feel some sense of gain, even if the accomplishment was not her own. He had even felt assured enough to lift her pants leg and brush her skin for goosebumps. Her mind tossed up whether the boldness belonged to Simon or The Crown. The innocence kept balled in the pit of her stomach chanted constantly for his triumph. Her thousand year old mind was wiser than that. Should she keep interacting in search of Simon, or get to know and love the being that he was now? Was there no hope? Would there only be pain in their interaction?

She sunk her fang into the corner of the pepper, it felt more like heartburn than the warm tingle that she had hoped for. He hadn't liked her story much. Could it have been the fact that there were no princesses? Or did he want Marshall Lee to end up somewhere else; with someone else?

"Marceline!"

"Huh?" She jumped at the familiar voice, dropping the now gray pepper that rolled under the table.

"Let me in!" Ice King tapped on the window. He put on a pouty face. "_Pleaaase_."

"Ugh." She responded. "It's the early a.m., aren't old guys supposed to be in bed by now?"

"Old? I'm not old!" He responded indignantly.

"Prove it." She smirked.

"I will if you let me in!" He repeated.

This she had to see. "Fine." She sighed, unlatching the door.

A thought crossed her mind as she levitated at the level of the Ice King's head. She put a hand out before he could cross the threshold. "No crowns allowed."

His mouth wobbled a bit as a storm of emotions came over and subsided, "Alright, alright. I know you just want to get a look at the old chrome dome." He chortled, reluctantly placing the crown outside the door.

She laughed and wiggled her eyebrows. He wiggled back. "Say, where did you learn to do that?" A curious look crossed his face.

"Some old perv taught me." She looked down. He had made his robe look like footie pajamas.

He noticed her glance. "Check out how _not_ old I am!" His fingers were shaped like guns, pointing act her with mock fire.

"Quite the opposite of old." She noted, feeling herself the senior.

"I know, right?" He smiled with accomplishment, "I feel like I've done this before. I wanted to do it again."

"Um, excuse me?" She felt a lump in her throat.

"You know, a sleep over!" He wrapped an arm around her floating neck. "We can tell ghost stories and gossip and eat junk food 'til we barf!" His other arm panned out as he spoke.

She detached herself from his grasp, taking a moment to analyze the situation. What the hell, she couldn't sleep anyway. "Alright." She confirmed, now standing on solid ground. "But, since I only know what to do at girl sleepovers," she removed one of her crossed arms and held it aloft, "you're going to have to get a makeover."

"Hrm," He stalled. "I didn't like the way it turned out with Finn and Jake. Promise I get to keep my boyish charm?" He glanced up from under concerned brows.

"Vampire's honor." She held up two fingers. "Heck, maybe you'll feel like you did _years_ ago." She felt a tug at her heart.

They were up in her room now, sitting cross legged on the floor while her scavenged record player cranked out tunes that she wasn't alive for the creation of. At least the tunes were lively, and she had grown to know and love them over years of isolation. After a forced shower to rid him of the "penguin stank" as coined by Marceline, Ice King had changed into a spare black t-shirt and some gym shorts that, she was not proud to say, had belonged to Ash. She was running a brush through Ice King's mane of white as she sung along, "Reaching out, to touch a stranger, electric eyes are everywhere..."

Ice King chimed in, his eyes closed, "See that girl, she knows I'm watching, she likes the way I stare..."

Marceline burst out laughing, "Pfffhaha, you would pick that line." She tied his hair back into a ponytail. Then, her movements froze. "Wait, how do you know this song?"

He was silent for a moment as his brow furrowed, "Why, you wrote it, didn't you Marceline? I know all your hits. The princesses dig 'em."

"No." She shook her head. "I found this miles beneath the surface of Ooo in a land occupied by Mugglubs."

"Hehe, go figure." He shrugged it off.

She floated to face him, placing both palms firmly on his shoulders. "You know this song from somewhere else, think about it, Simon!"

Ice King looked shocked, turning from her to wrap his bony arms around his knees. "That's not my name, and I don't know what you're shouting about!" He huffed indignantly.

She looked upon his huddled form with pity. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. This wasn't the right way to go about this. Nothing she tried had worked since the day he called her Gunter. Maybe Simon was gone, he was only a human after all. All that could be left would be a shell embodied by the essence of a wizard that had been trapped in the crown. Warm droplets began to fall as the thought train continued towards the station of Simon's death and utter annihilation from this world. She sobbed once more at the loss.

Ice King looked over his sulking shoulder at the crying girl. "Hey, hey now," he scuttled over like a crab, "are you sad because you can't remember my name?" He placed a comforting hand on her upper back. "I forget things all the time! I have journals and journals of junk from my past in my basement. Yep. Most of the time it's soggy with tears from who knows where." He leaned into her ear in secrecy, "I think my journals are _haunted_ by sad ghosts!"

She stalled the sorrow and looked into his charcoal eyes, examining what he had said. She tried to disguise her excitement. "Really, then the next mission on our sleepover is reading each other's diary!"

"Well, why not." He accepted reluctantly. "Sheesh, girls have some weird rituals."

She hugged him, noting how this time he did not try to kiss her. "But first, you have to sing my favorite song." Marceline pushed forward, a curious fire born within her. "Finish it for me, 'Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got...'"


	2. Journal of Graybles

"Where everybody knows your name, and they're always glad you came..." They sang in unison as they drifted in the glacial air towards the bottom of the frozen stairwell. She wondered if either one of them cold truly feel the cold anymore, or if it was just in the emotional sense. This chamber had a lot of twists and turns, reminding Marceline of his statement, 'the labyrinth of my mind'.The thought chilled her as she envisioned fighting for the thousand years that she had been a vampire against an invisible foe, trapped inside her own body. Any weaker person would have given up by now.

They landed beside a pile of what some would call junk; some bound notebooks, torn loose papers, old sports equipment and a collection of broken instruments. She would refer to this collection as Simon. Marceline settled beside the acoustic guitar, holding it as if he were calling to her from the curling strings.

"Hey now, don't go making the other instruments jealous." He wagged a finger jokingly at her.

She smiled and held the body of the guitar closer to her, to tease him.

He blushed. "Eh he," He croaked a laugh, "what were we here for again?"

"Look down." She instructed.

He peeked at his shorts and black shirt; covering himself and feeling... different without his robe.

"Does that jog your memory?"

"Oh yea." He half smiled, "Woo, woo, slumber party!" His hands pumped the air in some long forgotten dance move.

"Correct." She replied, bending down to pick up a newish looking folder."As a reward, we get to listen to your journal." It was better to start fresh, then delve deeper into his past.

He suddenly felt the air on the top of his head. He shouldn't be feeling that sensation. "I've never written a journal!" He became defensive, his teeth growing sharp.

She paused to assess the situation. Going straight to the point didn't work with the Ice King. In truth, laying something flat out on the table would have probably scared Simon just as much. He had to figure it out for himself to gain acceptance. She had to go slow. As she made that affirmation in her mind she pictured a vulnerable young professor; excited and yet petrified at the possibility of a new discovery.

"You're right. My bad." She replied. "What I meant to say, is that we get to hear a grayble."

His visage softened. "Oh, yea?" He seemed to like that one.

"Mhm." She flipped past the cover. "And I hear that this one is even better than Fiona and Cake." She smirked.

"Hey now!" He crossed his arms as he sat cross-legged. "You can't surpass perfection."

She snapped the log shut. "Well, I guess there's no point then." She pretended to toss it over her shoulder.

"Wait!" he stretched out his hand, pulling it back when he noticed her stare. "Ahem, I'd like to see you try."

"Try I will." She confirmed as she placed her finger under the first line of text.

–

"_'Her body is hot but it can't warm me any more _

_Her breath on my digits causes vapor_

_My princess shies away at my touch_

_Frostbitten peach, frozen rosebud_

_The flowers wither under my feet_

_No chance to bloom_

_To reach fruition-_

_A crystal cocoon_

_I incarnate the time before_

_The reign that is coming,_

_That will never end_...'"

Marceline trailed off. Maybe not the best place to start. Dang Simon, what was she feeling? Perhaps it stirred the same emotion in the Ice King; she glanced up at him for recognition.

He stared back blankly. She swore that she could hear him blink.

"What kind of crud is this?" He whines, "Who writes poetry anymore? Ee-yah that amateaur was bad. Marceline find something else." He circles his hand in the air, looking bored.

"Uh, right." She fumbles through the discarded letters on the floor. Her heart beats nervously. This didn't work before when they had sung together, why should it work now? She holds on to that glint of recognition in his eye, his recollection of songs. "Ah-ha!" she crows as she puts her finger on her next attempt. "How about you read this one?" she asks, moreso demands, handing him a marbled notebook.

"Yea, yea. Hand me my glasses." He puts out a hand, absentmindedly.

Her breath hitches. He looks up and pulls his hand back. "Er- of water! Hand me a glass of water!" He corrects, "Man, my throat is dry, heh heh."

"Not until you read!" She insists.

"Alright already, lady." He pushes his face into the pages. "Here we go..."


	3. My Princess

Leaves would crunch beneath their feet, if there were any leaves or trees living. A man and a girl make their way through the park of an abandoned city. He looks down at her innocent face; what he would give to show her the apple orchards and cider donuts, the hayrides and costumes that came with the smell of chimney smoke in the air the color change of the temperate deciduous forests. Those were all just memories now, locked in a crumbling fortress. He could barely see Betty's figure pressed against the highest window of the highest tower. He doesn't have to try hard to blur her image, the cold magic is already coursing through his veins like B-Cells eradicating any antigens of his past life.

He wondered if her skin was truly blue, or if the combination of his glasses and the cursed totem were causing a superposition. At the corner of his mind there was another small figure in his life, but it was a boy. At this point, he couldn't recall whether it had belonged to him, or was the royal heir so to speak. The name came in echos. Sometimes he even called objects by the moniker. Of one thing he was certain, if the crown didn't want him to remember, then he would not. As such, he didn't bother going back down the path that would lead him to discover the thorny truth.

They stopped in a clearing where they could see intruders from all sides. The little girl took out and unwrapped a candy bar. He hated himself for knowing that she would treat the disembowelment of any prey with the same amount of indifference. Then again, that was life these days. He tried to fortify her childhood in any way he possibly could, to provide her with some semblance of youth and carefree days. To permit that, he battled between placing the crown on his head for her protection and burning it in a fire to be rid them of the evil within it. She hated it when he put it on, he hoped and prayed that the emotion did not come from any ill will towards her. Some days he walked the tightrope between the pain of sanity and succumbing to the peaceful slumber of ignorance that washed upon him like a warm wave. He always came back for her, like a parent sitting in the cold rain to watch a little league game. With that thought, he glanced down at her ankle. She had twisted it running away from some green creatures on the street before he had swept her up and carried her to the city limits. It was getting a little swollen, but he feared that if he used his ice powers he would freeze her limbs off. He couldn't quite control himself yet, he didn't know if he ever would. They would have to find something else to make her comfortable. Maybe a packet of cold peas?

Suddenly, the pink goop was approaching again from the edge of the field. He instinctively reached down for the crown on his belt. A small hand caught his wrist.

"It's okay, she likes me." The girl with the pointed ears cooed.

"She?" The old man sounded surprised, "How can you tell?"

The child was silent for a moment. "She sort of reminds me of mommy."

The rosy gelatinous mass was beginning to take the shape of a familiar woman in his life, his princess...

Ice King felt a sharp pain under his ribs, like Ricardio was stabbing his internal organs again.

Marceline looked on as she discovered the source of the soggy notebooks. Tears were streaming down Simon's face, the only sign of recognition of his past. Did the fact that he was holding her ankle mean that he recognized her as well? She was at a standstill. The last time that she held him to keep from crying, he had lashed out at her. She didn't want to do any thing more to make the man loathe himself. He gave Bonibel the most attention when she ignored him, but even he got fed up with that. She couldn't be the one to decide, she reasserted, he had to figure it out for himself.

"My princess!" he sobbed as he pulled Marceline into a desperate embrace, tears dampening her collar bone. She fought herself to stay rigid and let him delve into himself without interruption. "What did I say to you to make you go away?" He hid his face in her bosom, was his nose smaller? She should hate this; but it had been years since she felt anyone cling to her, especially her favorite person. She had convinced herself that he was someone she felt like she had made up once upon a traumatic childhood. Hambo was the evidence to the contrary. She knew that Ash was not tired of her holding onto an old toy, he was sick of her clutching to the frayed fabric of the idea that Simon was out there somewhere and that he still loved her. The way that Simon's head swayed back and forth as he wiped his eyes was teasing her chest. She couldn't make a sound.

"I'll be good, I promise!" He pleaded. "Let me remind you why you fell for me in the first place." His hands were swift up her dark purple tank top, soon circling a peaked nipple. She bit her lip as his mouth was gently caressing her neck, he really went straight for the jugular. His other hand was at the hem of her plaid shorts, pulling her into him. Into something hard and warm.

"Ah!" Stimulation overload, she cursed herself for letting a sigh escape. What kind of girl was she becoming? Some nights she had dreamed of this, feeling sappy and empty when she awoke. Yet she never thought it would become a reality. In the moment she really wanted it to be.

The Ice King pulled back, revealing a shorter beard and nose. There was a long pause as he looked like he was attempting to focus. "Marceline?" He asked. "Why is your lip bleeding?"

She didn't know if she should answer. She remained silent to let him ride out whatever revelations he was making.

"I don't feel so hot without my crown." He held onto his head.

Although he looked like him, it was not Simon. Not yet, she affirmed. This broke her muteness. "Sigh, okay. We can head back to my place so that you're nearby." She assured, "But, while you're a part of this sleepover, you can't put it on!" A serious look came over her. "Got it?"

He grumbled. "Well, only if you can make it up it another way."

"I will." She smirked. "Maybe you can think of some options on the way back."

The walked in tandem towards the base of the stairs.

"Y'ow!" Ice King screeched as he lifted his foot to reveal circular frames. "Who left these here?"

Marceline swallowed, her throat dry and her heart in a knot. "I did." she vocalized. "Sorry." She feigned apology as she slid them into her pocket, along with some useful looking papers. "Come on, IK." She held him close. He limply complied, due to the shortage of his powers and beard.


	4. Truth or Dare

Thoughts jumbled her mind on their flight through the clear night sky. If she deprived him of his crown, would he die as he had previously thought? Would that take hours? Days? Years? Had the crown trained him to believe that way? Or, had the wizard abilities transferred from the crown become enough to sustain him? He was not human when they met, but he was Simon. Then came the most important question of all, could she risk his life to save him?

They landed on her front porch, flooded in moonlight from the entrance of the cave. It was the witching hour, her favorite time of evening. His glazed eyes seem to gleam at the sight of the rubies on his crown. She could hear him swallow against his desire for the garland, like she often did when her parched throat yearned for the blood it had been denied a millennium ago. She could suck the red out of objects, but what could quench his hunger?

A foreign sensation stirred in her stomach as she placed an arm on his shoulder and tugged him in for a surprise peck on the cheek. He gasped and looked over at her in awe. Perhaps that could subdue him for now. His look of surprise turned quickly to the sly and silly king she knew.

"I recall you saying something about liking me during our jam session." He smirked, "But, I never thought that such a hip young thing as you would bow to the magistrate." He sauntered a little closer, "What would the other princesses think of you jumping them in line?"

She shoved him back with an open palm. "Don't get me wrong;" she recalled the feeling of his icy fingers moving deftly across her breast, "it's like before, just a show of kinship, ya know."

"Oh." He smoothed his hair back, looking bereft. "Right. What would my GF Bubblegum think anyway? Heh heh."

Marceline tried to remain silent, but the knife of resentment that came with the representation of all that she was not was twisting itself once again. "Seriously, are you making this shit up?" She hissed.

He gasped, "Marceline! That's a dirty word!"

"Are you my father? No! You're just a lecher that reeks of sea birds and solitary confinement!" She spat and slammed the door behind her.

Her heart beat fast as she slid down against the entrance, biting her knuckle. Ugh, maybe she went too far. Why oh why did he have to make her feel like this?

"Oh yea?!" His voice rose, "Well you, missy... You!..." She could hear him struggling, "...You really know what to say to hurt a guy... That ability to tap into emotion- maybe that's why you write songs so well."

"That's not an insult!" She groaned as she peered over the glass window in her doorway. The sovereign was rubbing his eyes, bending down to pick up the crown that she could only guess was whispering words of reassurance and comfort to his wizard ears. Panic rose in her. She couldn't give up like this and give in to her fit of jealousy... Was that what this was? "Hey!"

He glanced over his shoulder to see her raven hair catching the dim light of the cave. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a little girl standing in her red shoes.

She could see the hurt and confusion fogging his vision. "This sleepover ain't over yet! Or is it nap time at the old folks home?" She smiled warmly. "Still gotta show me, _old man_."

Determination registered in his posture. "And you, _little girl_, still owe me some favors!"

They both shared a grin as the blue male crossed her threshold. "That's more like it." She assured him with a pat on the back. As she did so, she noted how he wasn't as stocky or scrawny as he had been in the past. There was a definition of lean muscle tissue that made her want to linger there. Perhaps this time away from the crown was good for him, or good to him.

"Doesn't feel old, does it?" He noted her attention to his tone.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was getting a little too close for comfort. She wanted him to feel troubled as well. "You're right." She nodded as they ascended the staircase to her room. "Time for part three of our sleepover- truth or dare!" She announced.

"What if we both pick truth all the time?" He delved.

She silently contemplated the information that she could pull, but doubted the credibility of her current source. "Looks like we'll have to pull cards from a bowl, then."

Ice King was first up. He fished a hand through the bowl as music renewed itself in the background, scrambling the frequency of voices in his head. "Truth." He read.

She decided to test a question, "What is your name?"

He rolled his eyes, "C'mon Marceline, everyone calls me Ice King, you know that. Sometimes you and Finn call me poke-Mon, or something like that. I have no idea where you guys got that one."

She noted his speech and evasion of the question. Well, at least it wasn't an affirmation.

"Alright, just seeing if you're a liar." She smirked as she fished for her turn. "...Dare."

They both looked at each other for a while after she read aloud.

A mischievous grin crept up his face. "I dare you to show me the type of underwear you have on."

"Geez, you aren't old." She scoffed at the look of accomplishment on his face, "Only a prepubescent boy would have gone with that one."

"Still waiting." He insisted.

"Alright, _your majesty_." She replied sardonically. She pulled of her tank and shorts to reveal the gothic black bra and panty combo she thanked glob that she had been too lazy to remove before tossing and turning in bed.

"You don't like pink, do you?" He jested.

She was in his face in a second, "You aren't going to get any _pink_ here, Bub."

"Joking, joking!" He replied nervously. "I just thought it would be funny if you took off your shirt and there were daisies and unicorns and all that girly fluff." They blinked at each other. "Okay, you can put your clothes back on."

"Do I make you uncomfortable, old geezer?" She played, "Because I am quite comfortable, I think I'll stay like this."

"It's a free country." He flushed as he reached for a slip of paper. "Dare."

This time the smile was upon her face.

"Mother." He murmured under his breath. "Nothing too nasty, okay Marceline?"

"Oh, I already know what your panties look like." She confirmed. "You've already flashed those home-fashioned bad boys to half of Ooo. No, what I want to see..." She reveled in his discomfort, "is you trying to look like this guy!" She swiftly held up the photo of Simon teaching that she had gather from his journal.

"Don't want to." He turned around and crossed his arms with a huff.

"Why not?" She pleaded.

"He's like your dreamboat, your ideal man." Ice King sounded distant. "It would be like me trying to dress you up as a princess."

She had never thought of it that way; was Simon her ideal? He was the man that she found herself comparing all boyfriends to, but she assumed that it was because he was the only older male figure in her life for many years. Had she felt something more for him than family or friendship? The back of her mind was screaming at her, 'why do you think you're on the floor in your undies?!'

"But, you did my dare. So I guess I can do yours." He resigned himself to the bathroom, taking the spectacles along with him.

Was he so resigned because he was the Ice King seeking definition as a separate entity, or because he was Simon afraid to return to his body and answer for a haunted past?

He returned looking majestic, not with a crown, but with an old professorial suit and bow tie that he had magicked up, wearing a shorter hair style sans beard. The icing on the cake that made her heart quiver, was the return of those blue cracked frames bridging his nose. She could feel herself salivating like a dog who's had dinner placed before them and been commanded not to eat. She could see herself bowing now, thinking of IK's earlier comment.

He could read this all with the look of utter admiration on her face. "This is what you're in to?" He sounded surprised, running his fingers over the old corduroy. The feeling felt familiar and comforting, somehow.

She merely nodded, the assertion seeming to come to her only now.

He took a knee and brought her chin up, "Marcy," his voice was low and steady, the opposite of her heart. "You're into dorks." He chortled

She inhaled sharply and swatted at him, "You're damn right I am!" She giggled and both of them were on the floor laughing.

"Dorks in glasses!" He squeaked between chuckles.

"Hey, just one dork." She blushed looking at the ground, tucking a hair behind her ear.

**A/N Please tell me what you think; helps keep me going! Thanks to all the reviewers and readers so far :)**


	5. Part of me part of him

Simon tottered around doing bad impersonations of a professor, scribbling on the board and turning to scold Marceline,"You need to pay attention if you want to get an A on the test!" She acted along, rogering him and pretending to take notes. Until he quoted, "I am proud to present to the museum the latest of my findings, The Enchirdion! This ancient book with codes of conduct, guidelines, and other mysterious information holds great power which I suspect will allow for a bridge between alternate dimensions!"

Marceline's jaw dropped.

"Er- what?" Ice King seemed to ask himself. "Who said that?"

"You did, Professor." The vampire prodded, "please continue with your oh so interesting lecture, Mr. P." She smiled and placed her chin on her folded fingers, expression rapt.

"Mr. P?" He felt fuzzy.

"Just a made up name for your made up persona." She goaded. "You're doing a great job!"

Someone finally liked something he was doing for once. He flushed and endeavored to continue with his story, "Oh yea, I guess I am pretty good at this made up stuff! Where was I... The Enchiridion was found in Europe, where I am based out of. I believe this is due to the value to mighty warriors like Vikings... Soon, the Mushroom War will be upon us. Brothers and sisters, I believe the the key to stopping the decimation of the world is in Ice Crown, holding origin in Scandinavia. That is why I ask you to fund my endeavor... The Ice Crown... Key to... Visions... My princess... Why? Dammit, STOP!"

Ice King was swiftly on both of his knees yelling with his hands over his ears, "STOP IT! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Marceline flew to his side in a panic, was it Ice King shouting at Simon or was it at the crown? She didn't know who to root for or how to help. She chided herself, 'This is why you didn't attempt something this stupid in this past! Didn't you know this was going to happen?! Think Marceline- how do we get through this?'

The only instinct that came to her was visceral. She grabbed the wailing man and held him tight, stroking his hair and down his spine and whispering in his ear, "It's alright, I'm with you. I'll always be with you, you're safe, I'll never leave, I'll never let go. I've always been watching over you, Hambo and I are watching over you, we love you..." She softly kissed a trail up and down his chin as his shouts turned into the imploring cries that she had heard back in his ice cave.

"Don't leave me." He sobbed, wrapping his arms around Marceline's waist pulling her into an embrace to where she felt like their bones were melding. She recalled her state of undress as she felt Simon's freshly shaven face against her neck. She didn't care; she would do anything for the benefit of this man, whether part of him approved or not.

"Never." She reasserted to herself and to him.

It felt like they couldn't get any closer until he breathed onto her sternum, "Prove it to me."

She couldn't see his eyes, only the back of his head and the silver strands barely touching his shoulders. Was it Simon or was it the Ice King asking such a question? After all these years, had they become the same person? No, she affirmed, the man here clinging to her desperately was not the penguin hoarding princess stealer she sought to avoid. This was no caricature, he was real. Whoever it was, it was a lonely man pleading for forgiveness acceptance. And she had loved him for a thousand years.

"How?" Her throat was tight with self-disclosure. She had only ever been in a long term relationship with Ash, and everything went to shit. In between, she had spent countless years traveling the realms; having the occasional one night stand with a demon or spirit. All that she had known aside from Simon, partly due to her father's influence, was corrupt and evil. He had been the one shinning point of light in her life that innocently tried to encourage her looting was wrong while robbing a store for rations. Do as I say, not how I do. How on earth could she provide for this man in the way that he had once provided for her?

"Show me I'm still here, show me I'm still worth it." His hands traced the curves her side and back as his frames pressed into her flesh. From the tone of his voice, she could gather it was neither a distinct Simon or Ice King. In earlier days she would often fantasize that the man would return like the reverse of some magic spell, young and handsome and ignorant of what he had been for the past thousand years. He would grasp Marceline's hands and thank her and ask her to fill in the gaps of his disappearance from this world. It would all unfold as if he were a sleeping prince. Now she was the one waking up as her dream dissipated like steam off a shower door. Realization struck her, there was no clean slate.

After years of sharing he same body, they had become one person. Both observed, but perhaps Simon remained impassive due to lack of purpose in a strange new world. The fallout from the experience of the Mushroom War and the later disappearance of Marceline caused a post-traumatic response that made him dissociate from the current reality. The only thing that reminded him of what it used to be like was a human boy; hence the preoccupation with Finn. The personality that they had deemed Ice King was the one calling the shots, while Simon watched life unfolding outside like a television show. It was not real to him. He had claimed not to remember his actions before, which would be believable at first. She wondered, after spending several lifetimes with the crown, had he gained a certain amount of control? Did he just sit back and pretend because the truth was too scary to face? Meanwhile she had to live them all, alone.

"You're too unfair." Marceline felt hot tears streaming down her face. He flinched at her words, but remained silent. "You're asking me not to leave you, but haven't you been absent all of these years?" She was shaking, "I needed your guidance! My father is basically Beelzebub! Did you think I would be better off in his care? If you could call it that!" She could feel Simon's face turning towards hers. "I needed you," she wept freely, "I needed your... love!" She exasperated.

With that, his lips were swiftly upon hers. A warm and thrilling sensation she hadn't felt in years, as his tongue urgently sought hers. She was surprised at first, but melted into the situation, meeting his rhythm.

They both pulled back slowly and looked at each other. He glanced at the ground and scratched his head. "I'm sorry, Marcy, please forgive me." He spoke tensely, "I've been watching you grow up from the backseat for a long time. I'm not sure what kind of love you're looking for.. I really hope you weren't figuring more paternal after all these lifetimes." He glanced back up at her nervously waving his hands, "But it's not like we couldn't go back to that! If it's... what you wanted."

She blinked and bloomed a light blue, "No, I'm not sure what it is _you _want." She swallowed against the memory, "You've been chasing after princesses like your life depended on it."

"I, uh..." Simon gathered his thoughts. "That was part me and part _him_." He motioned outside with a thumb. "I believe you saw a photo of my fiance, once upon a time, her name was Betty." He became quiet, looking at his interlaced fingers. "I called her my princess, and the crown amplified my ambition to get her back, from early on."

She felt her eyes sting, "Do you still desire to-"

"I barely remember her." He answered truthfully, his eyes sorrowfully drowning in Marceline's. "In this last millennium, the strongest urge that I have felt towards her is one of apology. I did something wrong to lose her, and the cycle repeated itself with you. I lost hope." His mouth folded in a sad line.

She put a hand on his. "I'm here." She smiled, "We both are, now."

He smiled back dolefully.

"One more question that's been eating at me-" She pressed forward for resolution, "Why not me, before? Why Bubblegum?"

"She strongly resembles Betty; or my fragmented memories of her anyway. Once again, part me and part _him_." He gathered himself for the next part of the question, "Why not you?" He looked up at her and his tone was one of admiration. "Why _not_ you! Wow." He gestured to her figure. "You've grown up to be really beautiful, Marceline." The both blushed. "But, anyway, I still felt like I had that fatherly influence for you and you would be totally put off by my interest. Which I'll say seemed to be the case when we met earlier in your household." She recalled shoving him away when he went in for the kiss. "So with any influence I had, I told the crown to stay away. It worked for the longest time- but how I missed you, Marceline." His fingers intertwined with hers.

"Now we're practically the same age compared to everyone else in Ooo!" She laughed lamentably, "And I'll let you in on a secret, I didn't kiss you at that time because it wasn't _you_."

A half smile lit up his face.

"Can I-" she asked anxiously sliding towards him, "call you Simon after all this time?"

He paused, closing his eyes and nodding in acceptance, "If I still deserve it."

**A/N Thanks so much for the reviews! Gratuitous scene comin' up you dirty Gloobers!**


	6. My King

**A/N Thank you, I'm honored that some have commented that it's like the show; but the next few chapters go beyond so prepare :) ! **

The name washed over him like a cold shower. It would be nice after a hot summer day, but he had been living in a December wasteland for who knows how long. It chilled him to recall Marceline's tone whilst trying to awaken him from his slumber. She still had that teenager bite to her words,

"_Y__ou don't remember anything, do you __**SIMON**__?!"_

_I don't want to... Please don't make me remember..._

Even the boy had pitched in on occasion,

"_Where did you go, Simon?"_

_That person wasn't worthy of existence... Please let him go..._

So why now? He thought that his ice coffin was impenetrable. No attack, be it verbal or physical could shatter this persona that he had become. Looking back, he was right. The coffin couldn't break, it had to be thawed, slowly. And the heat that was radiating off of Marceline was causing him to do more than melt. He wondered, did other parts of his savior linger in the teenage realm as well?

"Simon!"

"Wha?" He pulled himself back from his thoughts, were he had spent the last thousand years trapped in a labyrinth. Something else within him was waking up, staring at the vampire queen's sullen face. How did she get on his lap?

"Are you there?" She pleaded, hands cupped on either side of his face, desperately searching his gaze. There was something there that he hadn't felt in a long time; need... and an aching desire...

"Touch me some more, I'm almost there..." He joked in a dreamlike state.

She blushed ardently, whacking him on the backside of the head.

"Breadballs!" His exclaimed, rubbing his skull.

"There you are." She exhaled in relief.

"And there's your fist..." He looked up from under his spectacles with a smile.

"Have you become a dirty old man after all these years?" She tilted her head, sharing his grin.

"I'm not-!" He started out in a defense that died off, "Well, at least I don't feel old. Maybe a tad dirty. I feel middle-aged, like the way that I was when I found you." He voice trailed with sorrowful memories. "But!" He started again with more energy, "Even if I was lost across this stretch of time, my experiences with everyone in Ooo have made me feel young at heart. Kind of like Neverland."

"Never...?" She questioned.

"Maybe I should read it to you as a bedtime story." Simon smirked.

"Hey!" She joked back, "I'll have you know that being around a thousand qualifies me as a consenting adult!"

"And what are we consenting to?" Simon played on.

She stared at him silently for a moment, her gaze dropping toward his lips.

He leaned in once again, waiting for her to initiate contact. She followed suit, and when she was close enough he pinned her to the ground and kissed her with a loud, "Muah, muah!" as he had before in her kitchen.

"Ew, Simon!" She kicked her feet squirming under his weight. Both of them were laughing. His physique was lean and muscled, like the man she had known long ago. How had he become so strong?

"Sorry Marcy, spend a few years with this guy and you become a bit of a running gag."

She ran her fingers through his silver hair, "Oh, you're no joke." She simpered, "And neither is this!"

With that, she had grabbed him by the lapels and was kissing him passionately, showing her yearning through the thrust of her tongue and the unconscious grind of her hips against his.

"Marceline..." His groan echoing in her mouth.

"Say it again." She demanded, looking into his eyes whilst deftly unbuckling his belt.

"Marceline!" He expressed his surprise at her forwardness, placing a hand on hers. "Think for a second. What we're doing can't be undone." Both of them were panting slightly. "Are you sure this isn't a heat of the moment thing? You won't... regret this in the morning?"

"Professor," she cooed, "I don't know what sort of track record you've had in the past- but don't expect me to take pity on you. Not now, not ever again. Others may have left, but I'm here for as long as you want me. Hell, even if you don't want me, I'll be around." She teased.

"Heh,sorry that you've bared witness to my pity party. I guess you don't want another invitation." He flushed.

"And quit saying sorry!" She rolled him so that she was on top, her hands resting on his chest. "The _only_ thing you're going to be sorry for is not doing this sooner." At that, she unclasped her bra, allowing him to take in the perky fullness of her chest.

"Oh my..." was all he could utter.

"Make some room in your mind for me, because you're going to be thinking about this for days." She titillated as she began to unbutton his dress-shirt.

He stared at her in amazement until his torso was bare and she was tracing the outline of his abs. Then he spoke up, "What do you do to me Marceline; reducing me to some slack-jawed school boy." He sat up with her still perched across his groin. "Let me show you what you've been missing from those other snot-nosed punks." He lifted her easily and began to carry her.

She laughed loudly, "Did it have to be princess-style?"

"I know that you're no princess." He smiled down at her, "You are a magnificent queen, Marceline."

Even though it had been missing for who knows how long, she could swear that she felt the blood swell in her heart. She had expressed distaste for such girly sentiments before, but deep down with Simon, it was as if he was helping her discover sides of herself that she had never known.

"And tonight milady, the king has requested to share your chamber."

He laid her softly down upon her bed, kneeling across from her.

"Forgive me, but there is no vampire king, is there?" He looked at her anxiously.

Her penitent Simon. She couldn't torture him any longer. "The only king," she whispered, "is right here sharing my ceremonial mattress." He grinned at her statement, embracing her.

The feeling was foreign to each of them; an innocent embrace was certainly not so without clothing. He could feel the hard bead of her nipples against his firm chest. Her breasts were so smooth and sumptuous pressing against him ; it could have been the age, but he couldn't remember feeling any other pair.

"Ah..." she murmured.

"Oh, so you're sensitive here, my queen?" He questioned, languidly cupping her breast.

She nodded timidly. Since when did she ever do shy?

"I want to know all of your places, Marceline." His words were caressing her along with his body, "And I assure you, I _will_ seek them out."


	7. Ice Cream

His trail of kisses across her torso evoked a ticklish feeling. Even more sensation was wrought from his tongue circling her peaked nipples, feeling much like an ice cube. Marceline looked at him from under lidded eyes, his confident smiled demonstrated that he knew that he had the ability to make his mouth as cold or as warm as he desired. Maybe those wizard skills weren't so bad after all. She couldn't let him have all the fun.

"Won't you let me pleasure you too?" She asked coyly.

He sat upright, rigidly. She could see a new fear come over his complexion.

"It's not wrong, you know, to feel this way." Marceline guessed at his reaction, trying to comfort him.

"I, I know." Simon glanced away for a moment, rubbing his bicep. "It's just-"

"Just what?" she held him from behind, pressing her chest into his scapula.

"No fair." He muttered, turning his face to look over his shoulder. "It's just been a while. I can't remember how good I am in that area; I can only recall flunking out as Ice King."

And here you were using your powers to please me. You don't know how much of a catch your really are, Simon. "Hush." She whispered in his ear, kissing his cheekbone. "Close your eyes. None of that matters now. Just feel it in the moment."

He obeyed, a pang of anticipation still in his belly. He couldn't even hear her move, because the girl could float.

She drifted onto the floor, placing herself between his pants legs. There was something erotic about his old fashion business attire, something forbidden and alluring. She couldn't take them off just yet, but she was curious about the sight of him. Her fingers tentatively traced his inner thigh, causing a slight jump from Simon. His eyes remained closed.

She smiled, "What a good king, still obeying the queen's orders." He smiled back timidly, opening one eye. "Hey!" She spoke.

"I'm sorry Marcy, I've just been trapped in my own head for so long." He expressed, "Won't you let me see what I'm capable of?"

This made her blush for a moment before her heart raced with ambition, "Then there's no holding back, I'm going to make you fully aware of each lewd act and burn it into your retinas."

He swallowed.

"Not literally." She clarified with a grin, before cupping his balls on the outside of his slacks. She slid her other hand over the growing bulge.

"Ah!" He moaned, covering his mouth at the loudness.

She chuckled, "We're only getting started, sure you want to watch?"

He nodded fervently, "Yes please."

She continued trailing her fingers upward, slowly undoing his belt.

"This feels nostalgic." He commented, watching the leather slide out from his belt loops.

She didn't know whether to feel good or bad about the comment but continued on, placing her mouth on the top of the zipper. He looked perplexed; seems like he doesn't remember anyone else doing this to him. She felt relief and excitement as she pulled it down with her teeth.

Wow, he was going commando; but it wasn't like IK knew what type of underwear to wear. She could tell that he was well endowed when feeling him through his trousers, but nothing compared to the real thing. The blue tint of his skin gave off a purplish hue at the head of his member that stood firm and twitching with expectation. A patch of white hair twirled at the base, giving her the appearance of an ice cream cone or popsicle, one that desperately needed sucking. She returned her fangs to normal size and licked the tip. His hips instinctively pushed forward at the contact.

She looked up at him. He really wanted this badly. That wanton yet innocent expression through those cracked lenses alone was enough to cause her to dampen. This part of him was hot, and she wanted more. Tilting her head sideways, she tasted he length of him as she softly played with his balls.

"Marceline, please!" It sounded like a plea.

"Yes, Simon?" She glanced up at him.

"You're incredible, I want to make you feel what I feel."

She stood up to reveal the warm pool between her legs. "Can't you see I'm feeling it too?"

With that, he stood up and placing a hand on her shoulder and face, situating her for the perfect deep kiss. They gasped for air when their tongues were tired and their lips were swollen.

He pulled away, "Can I touch you there?"

"What a gentleman." She blushed. "Of course."

"Will you lay on the bed for me?"

She nodded and complied.

He stood for a moment, to take in her full form, her bra and panties abandoned on the floor along with their inhibitions. She gazed away in embarrassment, "Simon..."

"You are flawless, Marceline. I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you tonight."

She looked at his heartfelt face. "I'm just as lucky, my handsome Simon." She patted the bedspread beside her. He put a knee on the edge of the bed and she unbuttoned the fly off his pants, sending them slacking towards the ground. He pulled them off and they knelt together appreciating one another.

He tilted her chin upwards and kissed her slowly, gently. As she was lost in this, another sensation came from between her legs. He was rubbing the outside of her slick labia.

"Mm!" She purred with his strong hand moving up and down, encasing all of her.

"You like this?" He inquired.

She nodded as he found her pearl, pinching lightly. She squirmed beneath him.

"It seems that I've found another spot." He smiled; she stuck out her forked tongue.


	8. Our Own Kingdom

There was no Ice King, there was no Marceline the Vampire Queen, there was no Simon Petrikov. There was no past with lost loves and mutant wastelands and crying orphans nor was there the echo of the silent screams of an internal struggle. There was no fear, only love. And with that came the release of a man from his mental prison, the freedom of a girl from her abandonment. There was no Ooo. There were only two people, admiring and feeling and tasting and filling themselves on what they had wanted and needed for so long. They could always feel it, yet they couldn't quite put their finger on what they had been yearning for. That is, until this moment.

She bucked her hips against his hand until he could feel her movements become erratic.

He removed his hand and she looked at him disappointedly, both panting for air. Neither knew if they had blood anymore, but they could feel the evidence in the flush of their cheeks and the warmth radiating off of their bodies. They glowed a shade of plum, mixing with the blue hues of their complexions.

"I don't want you to finish yet, my Queen." His voice struck a low chord like her bass playing in her heart. "We've both waited so long, I want to make it the best you've ever had."

She smiled and sucked on her swollen lower lip while eyeing his toned, if not sinewy, form. "In my mind, there has never been anyone else." She spoke, like a choir to his ears he could her hear her songs calling to him to awaken and he was glad he listened. He would never turn a deaf ear again.

Feeling a rush of ownership, he rolled her over and straddled her. Her head swelled with delight when he began kissing and caressing her down. She ran her hands over his broad back, assuring herself that this was real and drawing herself as close to him as she possibly could wanting desperately to become one.

He stopped and glanced up nervously, "Do you have a, um…"

"A what?" Then she blushed, "Ah, no, no… Not many do what we're doing here anymore." Simon blinked confusedly at her. She continued in explanation, "They mostly reproduce asexually or are made in a lab, or something, by people like Bonnibel. No one does acts like this in the Candy Kingdom." She leaned forward, "You dirty old man." She smiled wickedly as she licked his lips. "Making me do unclean things."

"Wow…" He sat back and scratched his head. "So I guess," He sustained, "what we're doing here really is something special… Like a forgotten art…"

It was her turn to flip him over and pounce on top. "It would be special under any circumstance… As long as it was with you." She felt kind of corny with that last line.

"You're right, Marceline." He confirmed with a soft, lingering kiss. "Let's not lose this most primeval of artifacts."

They both grinned. "What a line." She tittered. Her laughter turned into sighs of enjoyment as the man beneath her moved himself roughly against her slit.

"You're so wet." He was captivated.

"You've made me like this." She spoke between moans, placing a hand on each cheek. "Ever since I've met you, Simon," Her eyes were glossy, "I wanted to be close to you." Warm tears dropped onto his chest. "And when I lost you, I took this form specifically so I could find you and be with you. Forever, if I could, even if it was only your friend." He wiped her face with his thumb, taking it all in. "But, I felt this burning inside whenever you would chase after other girls and call them your princess. You seemed to have forgotten me completely- I was so lost!" She sniffled, and he held her tightly. "You found me."

"And you found me." He assured her and kissed her silky, raven hair. The pieces of her broken heart which had scattered to the four corners of the Earth were coming back together, mended by the warmth of his lips and body. "You're mine now." He whispered, looking deep into her eyes. "And I'm never going to let you go." She nodded and held him close begging him, "I need you inside of me so bad."

Without further hesitation, he entered her smoothly. She felt a fullness and fulfillment in her life that she had never known before and she was almost dizzy with the pleasure of her teenage desires coming true.

It had been so long since he had been with someone, he felt like he was going to melt. He had to pace himself and she could see him struggling against nature. He took a few deep breaths as she stayed perfectly still, kissing his neck. Then, he began to move with all the passion and sexual tension that had been pent up inside of him for so long.

"Marceline!" He called out each time he thrust into her, "Marceline!" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she balled the blankets in her fists and relented to him pounding into her. She was face down, moaning into the bed as he knelt behind her. The creaking of the frame increased with his actions. He cupped her chest as it rebounded with their movement. The way that he teased her nipples and clit at the same time was making her feel a tightness in her stomach.

"I want to watch you move on top of me." He directed with a whisper into her ear.

She moved gracefully into position, putting on a show for her King. "That's it, like that…" He encouraged, mesmerized by her hands deftly moving across her body, pleasuring it in ways that she had practiced for a thousand years. "I'm getting close…"

"Me too…" She replied, feeling the course of their relationship build inside of her with each movement of his robust warmth inside of her slick folds. A look of sweet agony bloomed across both of their faces as their movements became more fitful. "I want to feel your hot cum inside me," She pleaded, "all of it!"

With those words he felt a thousand years' worth of longing release itself into her as she cried out, "Simon!" shuddering and taking in every inch of him and more.

They laid there in post-coital bliss, kissing one another intermittently, fingers and bodies interwoven until they fell asleep.

A human boy and his dog once again stand outside the Vampire Queen's house with binoculars after hearing of the Ice King's approach. Finn stares into the bedroom window.

"What is going on in _there_?" Squeaks a concerned Jake.

A perturbed Finn honestly answers, "I have no idea."

The End ;)


End file.
